Why
by Sandra
Summary: What happens if life gets to be to much ...


This is my first Kung Fu: The Legend Continues Story. I don't know if I portrayed the characters right, but I did my best. I also don't know where it fits in into the timeline.

I had to write this story after I surfed the net searching for information and ended up at memorial pages families created for their murdered daughters, sons, mums, dad..... I also saw a lot of pages dealing with suicide. Both topics moved me very deeply. So I wrote this. Hence it is dealing with topics such as suicide and the murder of a child if you are disturbed by this do not read it.

**_There are some explicit parts in this story and I would give it at last a PG-13 rating._**

Oh and another thing: I'm not a native speaker, so there might still be some faults in it - sorry for that.

I welcome any comments good or bad at Sandra.Schwarzer@t-online.de

The poems used in this story are not written by me.

All characters used in this story, except Steven and Selina, are not mine they belong to the wonderful creators of KF:TLC.

Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is a coincidence and purely unintentional.

> = Thoughts

CAPITAL LETTERS indicate shouting.

**_Special THANKS to my Beta Readers Amy, Luisandra and Rubin {HUGS}_**

***********************************************************

**_~~ Why ? ~~_**   
**_by Sandra Schwarzer_**

**Monday, 4 a.m. Peter Caine's Apartment**

Detective Peter Caine was asleep, for once he was not plagued by nightmares.

But his sleep should not be undisturbed for long.

The shrill ringing of the telephone on the nightstand cut through the silence.

Peter came awake instantly, grabbing for the phone.

"Caine", he answered the phone.

"Hi Pete, this is Steven", came the slightly familiar voice over the line.

Steven? Steven?>, Peter tried to remember the face to that name, but he was too tired to gather a clear thought.

"Oh come on Petey, you could not possible have forgotten me. Come on?"

"Mmm... Sorry, I......"

"You do remember the Academy, right?"

Finally everything clicked in place and Peter knew whom he was talking to. Steven Burns had gone through Police Academy with him. They'd been Friends during that time. After both men had started working at their assigned

Departments they had lost contact.

"Oh hey, Steven. I'm glad to hear from you, but have you checked the time lately?"

"Yeah, I know that it is late or make that early, but ............", the voice trailed off.

Something about the hollow sound of Steven's voice nagged on Peter's mind. The man sounded so lost.

He suddenly had the urge to keep him talking, so he settled into a sitting position on the bed, "But what? Something wrong?" Come on, you can do better than that>

A sigh came over the line, "Have you heard about the Devlin Homicide 3 months ago?"

Peter grimaced, there was not one cop in the city that had not heard about the awful murder.

Selina Devlin, a 6-year-old child, had been taken out of the backyard of her grandma. The child had been found dead by a hiker almost one-month later 100 miles south of Sloanville. The little girl had been repeatedly sexual abused and had been tormented beyond recognition whilst still alive. They'd only been able to identify her through her dental records.

Even though the 101st precinct was not directly involved they'd also been called in on the search for the little girl. Peter and Kermit, their resident computer wizzard, had spent several days and nights going through every inch of Chinatown without finding the slightest trace of Selina.

The man who'd done this to Selina had finally been arrested by the FBI one week ago. He'd been a close friend to Selina's family for a long time.

"........You still there, Pete?", hearing those words Peter snapped back to reality.

"Yes, I'm here", swallowing back the bile that threatened to rise as his thoughts unwillingly strayed to the day he'd seen the pictures that were taken at the scene.

"Pete, I was there when they'd arrested that SOB. He was sitting on the couch watching cartoons with his children..."

Peter hadn't known before that Steven was working at the 51st. The kidnapping had happened in their district so they'd been in on it together with the Feds.

"..... can you imagine this. He'd just killed that little girl and there he was sitting looking for all the world as innocent as a lamb."

Peter did not like the way the conversation was heading. But for once he kept his mouth shut and listened.

"You know Pete, that is not the worst thing. My Partner and me had interviewed him before. A woman from his neighborhood came to us just the day before Selina disappeared and accused him of having attempted to rape her, but he had an waterproof alibi and the woman is a known drug addict. We had him sitting right in front of us. Tell me, Pete, why didn't we do something?", the guilt in Steven's voice was tangible.

Oh God, don't do this> "Listen, Steven. There was absolutely nothing you could have done. The man had an alibi. You couldn't know.....", he was not able to finish his sentence.

"**I'M A COP DAMN IT !! **I should have known that something was up with him"

For the first time since the conversation started Peter could hear the slur in the other mans voice indicating that he was quite a bit drunk, "**STOP**, Steven. Nobody is perfect. We all make faults. Being a cop is not equal to being Superman."

"That's cute coming from you, Pete", sounding almost normal again.

"What do you mean?", Bewilderment evident in his tone.

"Oh come on. I followed the News Reports. You are very present in them. Peter Caine - Hot shot cop from the 101st, ring a bell?"

His emotions switch so fast, what's going on?> "Hot shot cop and lose canon, same thing", Peter answered.

"No. You know what my problem is. **I'M** responsible that the little girl is dead, because **I **did not take that Bastard down when **I **had the chance."

This is really bad, I have to distract him>, "Steven, why did you call me?"

Silence, then, "I don't know. Maybe because of old times", another Pause, "Pete, you gotta help me I can't go on anymore", pure anguish.

Oh boy, I sure wished Pop were here he would know what to say> "Okay, buddy. How about this, you tell me where you are and we'll talk face to face?", while he talked he stood up grabbed his Jeans, a shirt and got dressed.

The sound of shattering glass came over the line, "Sorry, Pete. I can't. Nobody should see me like this. I want you to know that I treasure the time we had at the Academy", the slur now more pronounced.

Damn>, "Steven, come on. I'm your friend. Where are you?"

"Sorry", with that the line went dead.

The click sounded almost deafening to Peter. He sank down on the bed clutching the handset to his chest.

The darkness of the room suddenly seemed more defined, the silence more palpable.

Steven had sounded so tormented, so lost - almost like a dead man.

Getting himself together he switched on his bedside lamp and dialed the precinct.

*******************************************************

It was almost 5 a.m. now. Nevertheless Kermit Griffin answered his phone. He'd pulled another all-nighter trying to find some information on the net concerning one of the current cases.

After relaying the conversation Peter had just had with Steven to Kermit, they agreed that they would try to find Steven first before they would call other officers in.

Peter left his apartment 10 minutes later. He walked to the Stealth got in and drove to the precinct.

Kermit meanwhile hacked into the personal data to get the address of Steven Burn's apartment. Equipped with that information he left his office to meet Peter in front of the department.

*******************************************************

Kermit could see just how much the telephone call had disturbed his friend. The usually vibrant energy pouring out of him was dulled to a small trickle. He drove the Stealth to the address Kermit had given him without saying so much as a word.

**_Flashback to the temple_**

_A young woman had arrived at the temple, she had been looking for help. She was welcomed into the temple with open arms. At first she was very withdrawn emerging from the room she'd been given only to eat and vanishing back there directly afterwards. The weeks passed and Kyra, that was the name of the girl, finally opened up to Peter telling him about her cruel childhood. A small bond of friendship had formed between Kyra and Peter._

_2 Months after she'd arrived at the temple Kyra's father came and took her back home. The next day she'd committed suicide._

_Caine walked up to his son who was sitting at the edge of the lake, his secret place. He placed his hands on the shoulders of the boy sitting on the ground in front of him, "What troubles you my son?"_

_Peter slowly turned his head, tears shimmering in his eyes, "It is not fair, Pop. Why did she have to die"_

_"You know, I can not answer you this question, my son", the Shaolin said and sat down beside his son._

_"Yeah, I know. I keep thinking that, maybe if we had kept her here, she would still be alive", hanging his head he started playing with a stone he found lying on the ground._

_"I do not know", Caine reached into the folds of his tunic. Coming up with a folded piece of paper he handed it to his son, "I found this the day Kyra left with her father"._

_Peter unfolded the paper and started to read:_

_Dear Peter,_

_Weep not for me though I am gone_   
_Into that gentle night._   
_Grieve if you will, but not for long_   
_Upon my soul's sweet flight._   
_I am at peace, my soul's at rest_   
_There is no need for tears._   
_For with your friendship I was so blessed._   
_There is no pain, I suffer not,_   
_The fear now all is gone._   
_Put now these things out of your thoughts,_   
_In your memory I live on._   
_Remember not my fight for breath_   
_Remember not the strife._   
_Please do not dwell upon my death,_   
_But celebrate my life._

_Kyra_   
(Poem "I will always love you" - Author unknown)

_After Peter had finished reading, Caine slowly stood up dragging his son to his feet. He turned him around so that the boy was forced to look into his eyes, "Suicide is not chosen; it happens when pain exceeds the resources for coping with pain."_

_Closing his eyes Peter sighed and tried to hang his head but his father gently cupped his chin in one hand and forced him to look up, "You know that I will always be there for you to help you coping with the pain. Do not be afraid to come to me._

**_Present_**

Kermit recognized the far away look on Peters face in time to grab the steering wheel and prevent the Stealth from crashing into the nearest dumpster, "HEY KID!!"

Hitting the brake hard Peter brought the car to a stop with screeching tires, "Ops".

"Yeah, Ops. The next time you decide to wander of into the depths of your mind would you mind stopping", Kermit said trying to bring the adrenaline rush back under control.

"Sorry", Peter apologized.

"It's okay. Just don't do it again. Where the hell were you anyway?"

"Believe me, Kermit. You don't want to know", with that he started the car again and they continued the drive to Steven's apartment.   
  


*******************************************************

**Monday, 5.45 a.m., in front of Steven Burns apartment**

Peter brought his car to a stop in front of the apartment complex. Then he jumped out and started running towards Steven's apartment.

Knocking on the door brought no answer, "**STEVEN, OPEN UP. COME ON!!**", still now answer or even the slightest noise coming from the apartment.

A neighbor opened his door looking for the reason of the noise. Peter showed him his badge and he vanished back into his home.

"You think he's done something to himself, don't you?", the sun glasses wearing detective asked his friend who had started pacing in front of the door.

Swallowing hard, Peter nodded.

"Okay, let's get in there", reaching inside his pocket Kermit took his lockpick and proceeded to open the door. The lock gave but the door did not open. "It is probably bolted."

Motioning for Kermit to stand aside Peter kicked the door open.

The smell of alcohol lay heavy in the air when the detectives entered the apartment.

The living room was undisturbed, so was the kitchen except for the broken whisky bottle on the counter and some shards on the floor.

Light was filtering into the room from under the door of the bathroom. Kermit went to open that door, reaching out to turn the handle, he stopped and turned around to see Peter standing in the door to the bedroom staring at the bed.

The first sunrays filtered in through the windows, one of them highlighted a white sheet of paper lying on the dark blue bedspread.

Slowly moving towards the bed Peter kneeled down and picked it up. It was a poem neatly printed out on the paper:

**"Tears Of A Cop"**   
**author unknown**

I have been where you fear to go...   
I have seen what you fear to see...   
I have done what you fear to do...   
All these things I've done for you.

I am the one you lean upon...   
The one you cast your scorn upon...   
The one you bring your troubles to...   
All these people I've been for you.

The one you ask to stand apart...   
The one you feel should have no heart...   
The one you call the man in blue...   
But I am human just like you.

And through the years I've come to see...   
That I'm not what you ask of me...   
So take this badge and take this gun...   
Will you take it? Will anyone?

And when you watch a person die...   
And hear a battered baby cry...   
Then so you think that you can be   
All those things you ask of me...?

  
  
  
  
  


Beneath the poem Steven had written in red ink ~ **_I'm sorry, Selina_** ~.

Peter got up, walked to Kermit, who still stood in the doorway and handed him the paper wordlessly.

The older Detective took it and read it. Then he turned around to see Peter standing in front of the bathroom door seemingly unable to open it. He gently place a hand on the young mans shoulder, "You don't have to do this, Pete......"

Holding up his hand to stop his friend from saying anything more, Peter laid his other hand on the doorknob and pulled it open.

Detective Steven Burns was laying in his bathtub his wrists had been slit with a shard from the whisky bottle the blood had colored the water red.

The Life drained out of him. His soul on a journey to a *better* place.

They'd come too late to save the man, but even if they'd arrived sooner the detective would have been beyond help.

Closing his eyes Peter just stood there, he didn't even feel it when Kermit gently stirred him out of the bathroom and sat him down on the couch.

*******************************************************

The next hour passed in a blur.

Kermit had called the incident in and soon the place was swarmed with policemen, EMT's and the coroner. Kermit told them what had happened and that Steven Burns had called Peter before he'd committed suicide.

Peter just sat at the couch staring on the floor unable to untangle himself from the different emotions that raced through him anger, anguish and even more anger.

He felt a rage building inside himself and knew that he had to get away fast. Standing up he walked out of the door.

Kermit was in conversation with another detective when he noticed the younger man getting up from the couch and walking out. He'd just stepped out of the door himself, when he saw Caine walking around the corner of the apartment complex after his son. Knowing that the Shaolin could best deal with Peter. Kermit stepped back inside.

*******************************************************

Peter walked around the corner of the apartment building searching an outlet for his rage.

Why the hell did you do this? WHY?>

He leaned against the wall and was about to punch a hole into it. But a hand on that same arm stopped him.

"Do not do this to yourself, my son", Caine said as he held the arm in a gentle but unbreakable grip, preventing his son from hurting himself.

The moment he heard his father's voice he whirled around. Then he shrugged his fathers arm away and let himself sink down to sit with his back against the wall, "What are you doing here?... Oh no, don't answer that."

"You are disturbed?"

"Don't give me that crap, dad. I've just received a phone call by a friend I haven't heard from in years and the next thing I know is that he is lying dead in his bathtub. He probably even started slitting his wrists while he was still on the line with me", Peter said his voice growing louder with each word.

Caine just stood there taking in the words his son spat at him, knowing full well that they were just an outlet for the anguish the young man must be feeling.

Breathing heavily, Peter stopped his tirade. Looking at his father he pulled himself together, "Sorry."

"It is okay", the Shaolin said.

Silence stretched between the men. Finally Peter asked, "Why did he do this?"

"I cannot answer you that question."

"He never called me in all those years. Why now?", longing for an answer he looked at his father.

Caine shrugged, "Perhaps he wanted to share his pain with you, but he was beyond being able to cope even though you were willing to help him", he then reached out and offered his hand to his distraught son.

Peter let himself be pulled up into a hug.

"Maybe, if I had handled the phone call better or called the precinct from my cellphone....", guilt evident in every single word.

Caine held up his hand to stop his son, "You know that you have to let it go, my son. If you don't it will fester and grow until you can not contain it any longer".

Tears started spilling from Peter's eyes and he allowed himself to let go for a few seconds before pulling away from his father and bottling up his emotions to a place where he could deal with them later.

Eventually he would understand that Steven had had no other way out. And when that time finally came he would allow himself to grieve for a friend he had not seen in years but who had chosen him to share his last hour with.

Deep inside he knew that he had friends and especially a father that would help him cope with the pain.

*******************************************************

Detective Steven Burns was buried only 3 months after little Selina was laid to her last rest in the same graveyard.

Life still goes on.

"Do not stand by my grave and weep   
I am not there. I do not sleep   
I am a thousand winds that blow   
I am a diamond glint on snow   
I am the sunlight on the ripened grain   
I am the gentle autumn rain.   
When you awake in the morning hush   
I am the swift uplifting rush   
Of quiet birds in circling flight   
I am the soft star shine at night   
Do not stand by my grave and cry   
I am not there. . . I did not die."

_by Anonymous_

*******************************************************

The End

"Nothing can fully prepare an officer for what he or she will encounter in their chosen profession"   
By: Tom Gillan

**THERE IS ALWAYS ANOTHER WAY, SUICIDE IS NO WAY OUT !!!!!**

Copyright (c) 1999 by Sandra Schwarzer


End file.
